


Amnesty Lodge

by theneonpineapple



Series: Welcome to Kepler [4]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Amnesty, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Implied Relationships, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, TAZ Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theneonpineapple/pseuds/theneonpineapple
Summary: Welcome to Amnesty Lodge, your number one source for news about amnesty. The whole idea of it. People are forgivin’ a lot of people, all over the world these days.





	Amnesty Lodge

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. This is... twice the length of the General Store fic, and all one chapter. I'll probably write more centered around the lodge, because it's my favorite place in Kepler and I have a lot of feelings and ideas about it. In fact, there might be some serious author's notes to be made for this fic in particular, much longer than I can put here. 
> 
> I'm gonna start posting more stuff on my blog @keplersheetz to go with this series, so stay tuned.
> 
> Going into this I have the following preface - I dug up the MOTW handbook and these are the playbooks for the members of the old Pine Guard in this fic:  
> \- Mama is The Wronged, here to avenge her dead loved ones (she has a sawn-off shotgun and tattered clothes in canon, so I went with this one, and I want to dig wayyy more into Mama's character so stay tuned?)  
> \- Thacker is The Expert, and I've got him hc'd as a physicist, Dr. Thacker  
> \- Mike (canonical former member) is The Professional, and he's a deputy for the Kepler Sheriff's Office  
> \- Leta (an OC I cooked up for angst purposes) is The Divine, and her moves are Smite, Banish Evil, and Lay On Hands. She's a sylph, but in keeping with both the folklore I used for her and the role of the Divine, she's very old and a little, uh, detached.
> 
> NB: Mads = Mama, in case you missed the mention of her name, Madeline Cobb. She's mid-20s/early 30's in a lot of the flashbacks here so it didn't make sense for her to go by Mama.

**Amnesty Lodge  
35 Forest Rd, Kepler, WV 24927**

_The word "amnesty" derives ultimately from the prefix a-, meaning not, and the verb mnasthai, to remember._

 

 

* * *

(2019)

"Amnesty Lodge," said Aubrey, looking up at the dome that had begun to be a visual representation of her life here, in her head. She was dangling her feet in the hot springs. The water was naturally warm, but it wasn't exactly warm enough for her to want to take a dip in the spring, either. And warm water or not, the air was chilly.

"Why's it called that? Amnesty? That's, like, forgiveness, right? Is it like an Olive Garden thing, when you're here you're forgiven? Or religious?"

Jake, who seemed to have no hold ups over the chill in the air and the snow on the ground, straightened up from where he'd been floating on his back, and looked very intently at Aubrey.

"You don't know?"

"Uh," said Aubrey, looking to where Dani was stretched out on the edge of the spring, her hand trailing in the water. "I mean, it wasn't in the welcome packet?"

Dani huffed a quiet laugh and pushed herself up. "It's okay, he just means – you know how we can never go back, right?"

"You mentioned it..."

"When the Sylvans here first started to organize, a lot of them wanted to change that. They wanted to be forgiven, to stay in Sylvain or to be free to go between the worlds. And even the people who like it better here - well. We're not exactly welcomed with open arms. We're stuck between Sylvain and Earth, permanently."

Aubrey thought about life on the road, a road she'd chosen before, _before_ , and then it had become the only road because going home to her dad wasn't an option. The road had seemed endless, before she came here.

"They wouldn't grant us amnesty," said Dani. "So we built it ourselves."

"Well, not us specifically. I guess it kinda is like Olive Garden," said Jake, thoughtfully.

"So it's Forgiveness Lodge..."

"Not just forgiveness. A blank slate, erased, forgotten, you never committed a crime. That's what Amnesty means to us. Somewhere we can be something besides exiles and cryptids."

She tried to picture being able to shed her crimes at the door the way they did. She couldn't picture it.

Dani looked at her, cocked her head, and smiled just a little.

Aubrey wondered if she'd smile if she knew what Aubrey's crime was.

_I killed my mom._

* * *

(1990)

Leta wandered into the Lodge, sometimes, her eyes distant and unfocused.

Thacker wasn't comfortable enough around her to question her motives. Something about her was a little more wild than most Sylvans, no doubt due to her age, as he'd garnered from his interviews of the Sylvans for his research.

Theoretically, sylphs could live much, much longer than humans as long as they regularly had contact with a source of its energy, like the hot springs. In practice they drifted through humanity for about a hundred years, creating folktales in their wake, and then slowly stopped showing up to feed so regularly. And then they disappeared. Wasting away somewhere, a wanderer caught between worlds.

It was part of why they'd built this place, in a small town with enough wilderness at its back to remain mostly unnoticed, and a National Radio Quiet Zone restricting the ever increasing number of radio devices and cameras. He himself had been examining the electromagnetic interference produced by Abominations, and was both grateful for the ability to blame the anomalies on the research station, and madly curious about what the anomalies were doing to their research.

Now, as more and more former citizens of Sylvain flocked here, they had somewhere to ground themselves.

Today seemed to be one of Leta's more lucid days, though, because she sat down opposite him and spoke: "What's going on with the human?"

"Who?" He half expected her to point at him, because she was weird enough, distant enough from human culture, that that phrasing could be her attempt at asking him how he was. But she turned to stare directly at – "Oh, Mike? Well. He talks to everyone he can whenever we got to Sylvain on business. Guess a lot of the sylphs have been asking him to update them about what they've missed, or whatever."

She blinked and he realized he'd never seen her blink before. He made a note to interview more stable sylphs about whether their disguises were bound by the need for blinking if their innate forms were not.

"You can take off your disguise, you know." A lot of people, especially the ones who'd been around for a while, shouldering the burden of hiding from humanity, relished the opportunity to be freely themselves. And they said was grounding, too, just like having a place to retreat to and others of their kind. A sanctuary.

Leta cocked her head, looking remarkably like a curious bird. "Won't it disturb the new human?"

"No one else bothers him."

"My form is different," she said.

Thacker hesitated. Considered that. And then shook his head. "He doesn't scare easy."

She reached up and removed her necklace over her head. Thacker had seen her form once before, but had never watched her transform. Her glossy dark curls turned to a wild fray of fiery red tangles, and her olive skin became gray and mottled, her dark eyes a red-rimmed cloudy white - he knew under the table her legs were different now, one gleaming metal, one a gray-furred leg ending in a hoof.

Thacker glanced at Mike. He hardly seemed to notice.

Leta was studying Thacker again as she tucked the necklace into her pocket. "The rift," she said. "The infection. This town is afflicted."

It took him a moment to register that she meant the Abominations. "What about it?"

"You are fighting them."

"As much as we can, yeah."

"I will help."

"Leta, I appreciate that, but—" He broke off when he heard Mads approaching, her boots heavy on the hardwood floors.

"Hello, Leta," she said neutrally. "How are you?"

"He said I would not disturb the new human, is that not true?"

"Mike ain't the kind to scare easy," she confirmed. "You aren't in trouble, Leta, Doc here just looked a little twitchy."

"I was not _twitchy_ ," he said.

"The expert does not want my intercession in your battle with the infection," she said.

Mads looked at Thacker. "She can help," she said. "You know we could use the help."

Leta was staring at the Sylvans talking to Mike, again, unblinking. "He is very young. You are all very young."

Thacker twisted to look at Mads, eyebrows raised. "You so sure that's a good idea?" _She seems to have a few screws loose._

"Is it normal for humans to undertake such burdensome undertakings at so young an age, Madeline Cobb?"

 _More than a few_.

"It's fine," she said quietly, and Thacker had doubts, but Mads had become the leader of this little enterprise, somehow. Then, to Leta, "We're all of age. I know by your terms we're young – hell, Mike and Doc are both older than me."

"Hm," said Leta. "Why do you have a more mature countenance than either of them?"

"I beg pardon?"

"'Mike' is starry-eyed. Thacker has not yet set aside his schooling."

"Well."

"Now hang on a minute—" Thacker began.

"I can see that I've disturbed you," she said, with another slow blink at that apparent realization. "I will go."

And before either of them could say anything, she stood up and walked away. Thacker turned to look at Mads. "You _sure_ this is where you wanna put your faith, Mads?"

"You know anyone else powerful as her, Doc, I'll make the roster change."

* * *

(2019)

The Lodge went a bit quiet when the door opened, and for once, it wasn't because it was Agent Stern. No, Aubrey didn't recognize the woman who came in, but it was clear the others did.

Dani and Jake and Barclay all immediately looked at Stern, seated in the corner, serenely drinking a cup of coffee while looking at his laptop screen.

"Should we get Mama?" Jake asked.

"I don't want to spook her," said Barclay.

"Who is that?" Aubrey asked.

"Leta. A Sylvan. Older than me, older than most of us I think. She didn't choose to leave Sylvain. They exiled her for something. I have no idea what."

"And you let her in?"

"Amnesty is for everyone," said Dani.

The woman – Leta – stood in the middle of the room, looking around, and then her eyes fell on Aubrey. And her expression changed. She moved towards her immediately, eyes fixed on Aubrey's chest.

Aubrey didn't have time to think about much besides _okay, creepy_ , and _is that a prosthetic leg?_ before Barclay was on his feet and Leta was right in Aubrey's space, grabbing her by the lapels of her denim vest and flinging the left side open to stare at the Pine Guard patch pinned inside.

"Hey," Aubrey said, "my eyes are up here."

The joke fell a little flat, because Dani and Jake looked more than a little terrified, and Agent Stern was getting out of his seat in the periphery.

But the woman let go of her and stepped back. "It's been twenty years since I saw someone wearing that," she said.

"Is there a problem here?"

Barclay waved him off. "No, no, Leta is an old regular, I think she mistook Aubrey for a girl who used to work here, old friend—"

"Oh, yeah, Aubrey's a dead ringer, for, um, Margaret. Used to work here," said Dani.

"Miss Little," said Stern, as Barclay led Leta away, saying something about Mama would want to see her after all these years. "You okay?"

"I didn't think denim was _that_ out of fashion," said Aubrey.

Stern just stared.

Aubrey was pretty sure that the woman's prosthetic leg was gold. Which was pretty sick.

* * *

(1997)

The chair splintered when it hit the wall, and Leta tossed the shattered remnants of wood across the room with an inarticulate scream.

"WHAT," she yelled, "IS THE POJNT," she picked up another chair, "OF THIS!" She hit the table with that one, knocking it over and into a messy tangle with the other two chairs seated around it. "WHAT IS THE POINT OF DOING GOOD—"

"Leta," said Mads.

"—OF SAVING PEOPLE—"

"Leta."

"—OF _ATONEMENT_ —"

"Leta!"

"—IF I AM PUNISHED ANYWAY?"

"LETA!"

She spun around, surrounded by a mess of broken chairs and shattered glass. "What. What could you possibly have to say to me that I care anything about, Madeline Cobb?"

"We can't give up."

"How do we fight fire?" Asked Leta. "How do we kill something that could – this building, this sanctuary, for so many, it is _kindling_ , Madeline Cobb."

Thacker said, "She's right. This thing tracked Mike down. How long until it comes here? Crawls inside the gas line? We need to figure out how to contain it so we can stop it."

" _That_ is a mystery you will have to solve _yourselves_ ," spat Leta.

"What?" said Thacker.

Mads caught her with a hand on her arm, knowing damn well Leta was strong enough to throw her across the room but not caring. "Do you want to kill the thing that killed Mike, or not?"

Leta made a move as if to grab Mads by the throat like she'd done half a hundred times to abominations and, memorably, another sylph at the Lodge who had a problem with her or the other Pine Guard. But she stopped and recoiled, dark eyes flickering between Mads and Thacker.

"I don't care about the other humans," she hissed. "I don't care about how if we kill this one another will take its place like that infernal game you play with the shiny wooden floors."

"Bowling."

"I don't _care_ about bowling, Madeline Cobb."

"You cared about Mike." She took a deep breath and ventured, "You care about us."

"You're kindling too," said Leta. "If this one doesn't burn you the next one will, or the next."

"One last hunt, then. Revenge, for Mike." If there was one thing that Mads knew about, after all, it was revenge quests. And she could see that the appeal of vengeance wasn't lost on Leta. Something sparked and burned in her eyes as she looked back at Mads with her usual inhuman intensity.

She nodded a little to herself. She turned to Thacker. "I will kill it. Find me a way."

* * *

(1994)

The Abomination growled, low in its throat, and swiped.

Mads went flying. She knew she hit her head, logically, but for a second there was no pain. Just the recognition that that had been an unpleasant sound her head made, hitting that tree. And then the pain hit. Her head throbbed.

Thacker moved between her and the Abomination and threw one of his Molotov cocktails.

Nothing happened.

There was a price to pay, when you failed to wound something you'd attacked, and it came in the form of the slash of long, vicious claws against Thacker's side. He collapsed, an easy target right at the creature's mercy.

Mike fired off a shot before it could bring its claws down again. The Abomination turned. It screamed in rage, but Thacker was safe, for the moment.

And then out of the woods sprang Leta. Her disguise was gone and she moved between Mike and the Abomination, her sharp teeth bared.

Mads rolled onto her side, blinking away the dark fog and bright spots clouding her vision. She definitely had a concussion. "You all right, Doc?"

She heard him groan softly and looked up to see him struggle to his feet. "S'not as bad as it looks," he said. "Toss me your bag."

"My bag?"

Across the clearing Leta yelped as the Abomination connected with her non-metal leg, cutting her and Mike's attempts to lead it in merry circles short.

"Hurry."

She tossed him the bag and he dug through it and found -

"You saw it before, it shrugged off the Taser."

"I messed up my Molotov cocktail. There are three things fire requires, Mads."

"Don't really have time for a science lesson—" she gritted out as she sat up and looked for her shotgun.

He continued like he hadn't heard, charging up the Taser. "Oxygen, fuel, and a source of ignition."

Mike barely scrambled away from a vicious looking attack that knocked his gun flying and left his arm dripping blood. Leta yelled something in a language Mads didn't know, and tried to draw the thing's attention again.

Three on the ground is worth a lot more than one in the bush, Mads thought incoherently.

Thacker pointed the Taser at the Abomination from behind, and pulled the trigger.

It had barely reacted to the voltage earlier, given its enormous size and bizarre anatomy - it had no kinda heart or brain it had keeping it running for the electricity to interrupt - but a thing of any size would notice both a high electrical current and being on fire. Because it was on fire, as the electricity sparked and finally ignited the remnants of the Molotov cocktail, which had soaked into its matted fur.

This was not a scream of rage. It was just pain, and Mike stood up, blood still streaming down his arm, and pointed his rifle at the Abomination. Its screams grew louder and filled with rage, and he shot it between the eyes once, twice, and then a third time, shell casings falling to the carpet of pine needles. The sound rang in Mads' ears.

The toxic black sludge that made up the creature flew apart in an awful spray.

"Well, I hated that," said Mike. "Let's not do that again."

"Bad news," Thacker said. "I think that thing might have had venom."

And he pitched over.

Mads immediately moved towards him. She still couldn't quite get the forest to stop spinning around her, but she was able to pull his head into her lap and check his pupils.

Leta picked her way around the body of the Abomination, her expression inscrutable. "Is he dead?"

"He's stable," she said, "but it's pretty bad."

Best as she could with her metal leg, Leta knelt down beside them. Her pale eyes were focused wholly on Thacker's face as she laid both hands on him, one at each temple.

Mads could feel, with her hands still resting at his pulse, his heartbeat change and the shift of his muscles as he stirred.

"Idiot," she said. "I told you to stop pushing yourself too far."

"Who died and left you in charge?" Thacker asked.

She flicked him. "I named myself in charge, 'cause I didn't trust your nerd ass to manage it."

"My nerd ass saved our lives."

"That is true," said Leta. "I could not banish it. Something was keeping it here. Come here, Mike. This thing imparts the affliction of its nature on you."

"I don't rightly know what that means, but all right," said Mike.

Mads pressed on Thacker's shoulders to keep him from trying to get up. "You mighta gotten a heal, Doc, but you're still a mess."

"I'm a mess, you're probably seein' double."

"Might be," she said. "What's it to you?"

"They makin eyes at each other?"

"Sure are."

Mike's arm twitched like he wanted to flip them off but Leta was holding it steady as she rolled up his sleeve. Mads watched them, cos she still wasn't so sure about that whole mess - Leta was a Sylvan, and a weird one at that, and Pine Guard or not, Mike was very much human and breakable and liable to piss off the damn Sylvans if he got tangled up with someone who wasn't just an exile for leaving Sylvain, but something she'd done in Sylvain proper.

But Leta was undeniably useful on a  hunt, with the laying of hands thing. Unusual, even for sylphs, she was pretty sure.

"You should have dodged faster," Leta told him, as she examined the scratches.

"I don't - we were kinda in a bind, Leta!"

"I am tough, Michale, you are not. You should have let me take the hit."

She reached both hands up and Mike leaned down rather than kneeling so she could place her hands on the side of his face. Mads glanced away. It felt kind of intrusive, to watch them together, even if they weren't exactly being private, even if they weren't standing any closer than Leta had just been to Thacker's face. This was different.

"Ugh," Thacker muttered. "I'm gonna take a nap," he said, and closed his eyes with an exaggerated yawn

She didn't have much to look at besides the forest floor, so she was staring at the ground when the first bit of ink-black liquid dripped there. For a second she thought it was the Abomination, and tensed - and then she saw it was from Leta. Specifically from her elbow, the same arm as Mike's injury had been.

"Thanks," Mike said. "Owe you one."

Mads bit her cheek. That was an understatement.

Leta released his face and he straightened. "You can avoid owing me debts in the future by avoiding harm," she said.

Mike saw Mads watching them and quickly mumbled something about getting his truck, and Leta turned to make eye contact with her.

She raised an eyebrow.

Leta shook her head minutely. Don't tell him.

"Doc, stop goofing around and get off my damn lap. Leta—"

"What, you're not gonna heal Mads?"

"Head wounds are delicate and there is always a chance with any injury that my assistance will do more harm than good," said Leta. "It was hardly avoidable with the two of you, considering the potential poison damage, but for Madeline - I would prefer not to bring my magic into contact with something as delicate as the human brain without urgency. I will accompany you to the doctor, Madeline Cobb."

Was that a lie to cover up that Mads definitely didn't want Leta healing her til she figured out just what was up with her taking Mike's injury? She'd never mentioned that was possible. She'd explained the possibility of causing harm, but not...

Mads realized she needed to reply. "Nah, I don't need you to, Mike can drive me."

"I am the healer. I would like to see the work is done."

* * *

(2019)

"Mama – sorry to disturb you, but. Leta's here."

Mama half-rose out of her chair. " _Leta_ – oh my – uh, she can come in, obviously, I."

Leta came inside the office and examined it, and Mama, curiously. "You haven't changed," she said, once she had cast her strange intense gaze over every inch of the place. "I don't know why I thought you would."

"Everything else's changed," said Mama. "Figured I'd stay the same outta novelty."

"I suppose it has," said Leta, thoughtfully.

Barclay looked at Mama. "I'll go, uh."

"You should stay. She does not want to have a witness, but she _is_ afraid of me. Better to have a trusted lieutenant here, don't you think, Mad—"

"Don't."

Leta stopped mid-word, looking a little startled.

Mama rubbed at her face. "No one called me that then, and these days most folks don't even know it's my name. So. Don't."

She turned to look at Barclay, and waved him into the room, so he shut the door properly and sat down opposite Mama. Leta didn't take any of the other open chairs, until Mama cleared her throat.

"Ah. Right. You sit."

Barclay looked at Mama and raised his eyebrows. He was pretty sure even in his younger days, stumbling into a strange world, he'd never been this disconnected from normal customs. It was almost like… like she was too caught up in her head to remember what she knew. He'd met a few sylphs like that. Indrid Cold, sometimes, in a flurry of visions, forgot conversations, and absolutely did not remember things like bacteria existed. But there was something wild about Leta that always set his teeth on edge, and now he knew someone else who had a similar effect.

So when Mama said, "We gotta talk, Leta," he wasn't too surprised when it was followed with, "it's about Thacker."

"You call him Thacker now?"

"I. Leta, this ain't the time to be comparing and contrasting now and then."

"Isn't it?" She asked. "Comparison: the girl out there, she reminds me of you as you were when I joined. Contrast: your numbers seem to have _dwindled_ since then. Contrast: you have an outsider in your lobby when he should have been dispatched long ago. Contrast: the affliction is far worse than it was then. Contrast: your sylph here is practically mild-mannered now."

"Excuse me," said Barclay. And then wanted to kick something when he realized that just proved her point.

"Contrast: your expert has become corrupted. Comparison: you are still fighting a losing battle, the same battle, over and over, and you are still sending young humans to die and for what?"

"What exactly is the alternative? Leave them to die?"

"You know what I propose."

Mama looked at Barclay, who was suddenly very sure whatever Leta's suggestion was, he wouldn't like it. "I do, and you know what I think about it. Leta. I need – I need Doc back."

"If I could give Dr. Thacker his mind back, I would."

"No. No, Leta, you have to – you have to try."

Leta stood up, and Barclay tensed for a fight, but she just went to the dish where Mama always dumped her keys and scooped out a quarter. She flipped it into the air a few times, catching it.

"On heads," she said, "I heal him, and it works, and nothing terrible happens."

She flipped it in the air and caught it and slapped it on the table, leaving her hand on top of it. "On tails, my power burns through his mind and leaves him a shell – or dead."

"Okay, we get it—" Barclay began.

Leta didn't seem to even hear him, let alone respond. "Except the _real_ odds, if you recall, are more like this: there is a one in three chance I burn him from the inside out. There is a one in three chance I heal his mind, and that assumes that is even _possible_. And there is a one in three chance that I can heal him, and in doing so take all his harm onto myself."

The healers in Sylvain had never been so uncertain, but Leta was far from Sylvain, now.

"And before you begin to think the odds are weighted two to one in favor of success, since I am sure I am merely collateral damage to you now, I remind you, as difficult as it must be for you to see your friend in this state? You do not want me to take this damage."

Barclay rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't think Thacker dying would be much change in terms of his usefulness, and Thacker regaining his sanity would inarguably be a boon, but… "Mama, I gotta back her on this one. That's a 33% chance we have Leta in the same state as Thacker, and Thacker is hard enough to control. I don't even like a 1% chance of that, let alone a one in three chance."

The rest of the Pine Guard had proven so squeamish about killing that they'd adopted Billy, and he couldn't imagine Aubrey accepting killing Leta if there was a chance they could heal her. Better to avoid setting them up for disaster.

"There was a time when fortune still smiled on me, to bend those odds in our favor, but I don't think there's luck enough left for me to be sure of success."

Mama looked exhausted. She slumped back in her chair. "Guess that's two to one."

"I am sorry, Madeline Cobb," said Leta. "I can imagine it would be… both useful and comforting to have one of the old Guard returned to you."

Barclay remembered the note he'd read on Thacker's laptop, when Mama was missing. Mike's death, and the fire elemental. The next entry, after the description of the Abomination and its abilities and weaknesses and ultimate defeat, had been much more terse.

_Held Mike's memorial today. Leta left._

"Can't exactly have much of a reunion," Mama said. "Would be comforting to have at least one old friend back."

If Leta heard the double meaning, she didn't react.

Mama pressed on valiantly: "If you want to stick around, I could introduce you to the new folks, you could take a dip in the springs – and Barclay's got a marinade going, I think?"

Leta cocked her head. "Why?"

"Well, it's kinda what people do when they show up after a long time."

"I'm not people."

She left.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Mama said, "Barclay, did she run into Agent Stern out there?"

"Not exactly. She, uh, accosted Aubrey, looked at her patch, and then walked away. Stern saw the whole damn thing."

"Fuck."

"That's about the long and short of it, yeah."

"All right, go make sure she gets out of here without _incident_ , please?"

He nodded. And when he got up to go, he snuck a look at the quarter Leta had left on Mama's desk.

There was an eagle facing up.

* * *

(1994)

As soon as Thacker left them alone at the medical center, Mads turned to Leta. "Mind explaining what that was?" She gestured to Leta's arm, which seemed to have stopped bleeding quite so much.

"Don't worry," said Leta. "The venom in the claws didn't transfer, only the damage it had already done to his arm and some of his organs."

"Dammit, that ain't exactly what I call _reassuring_."

"Oh."

Mads sighed and shook her head. "Lemme see."

"I bandaged it while you were changing your clothes to avoid alerting the doctor to our activities," she said plainly, making Mads wince and glance around for eavesdroppers.

"Okay, remember the talk we had about keeping our voices quiet or just not talking about this in public?"

"…Yes."

She finished rolling up her sleeve, and Mads prodded gently at the bandages. Blood immediately began to well up there, blooming black on the gauze. "Good thing you wear black all the time," she muttered. "All right, pull your sleeve back down. That'll need stitches, but we can only say animal attack so much, and we can do stitches at the lodge."

"You don't need to concern yourself with my injuries. I _am_ tough."

"Tough don't make you heal faster. Look, just humor me. You might go septic."

"You are in charge."

Mads sighed. "Yeah. Apparently."

"You are better equipped than anyone else. Dr. Thacker is consumed with his studies and too callous to connect with the others. Michael Sanders is a good man, but good men do not always make good leaders. The others—"

"I know. I know, Leta, I'm the best person for the job. Doesn't make it any easier. Especially when one of my teammates doesn't tell me that _apparently_ , when she heals people, sometimes she _takes the hits for them_."

"It's only about a third of the time. Well," she paused. "The actual odds are closer to thirty-one percent of the time. A further twenty-eight percent of the time, if you'll recall, I do more harm than good. And nearly forty-two percent of the time, I can heal without myself or you being harmed."

"Huh," said Mads.

"I find those odds acceptable. And… sometimes, Madeline Cobb, sometimes, I am able to adjust the odds. But those times are few and far between."

"Isn't there any way I could help you?"

"Help me with magic?"

"I mean, focus is part of it, right? Or – could you draw strength from me?"

"This is not one of your human movies, Madeline Cobb, I cannot borrow your life force to cast more impressive spells. Focus… I suppose, if the conditions are more optimal, I might be better able to cast."

"How much better able?"

"I have no idea," said Leta. "No one has ever suggested helping me before."

Mads didn't want to poke at that particular comment too much – she and Leta had a nice mutual pact of not prying into each other's pasts, and she would really hate to break that streak now – so she shook her head and focused on her main concern, which was: "I don't like you, or anyone on my team, getting injured and not telling anyone. I especially don't like you apparently taking this risk on the regular and not telling us. Or at least me. 'Cause unless I misread, Mike don't know either, and y'all are close."

"Close?"

"Yeah, I'm not diggin' into that one. I already have a headache. Look, if you don't wanna tell everyone about you taking on injuries—"

"And I don't."

"—I need you to at least tell one of us. Me, or Mike. Preferably both."

"Why would I tell Michael? He is not in charge, nor is he our most skilled at first aid."

"He cares about you, whether you wanna deal with that right now or not. That means he wants to know when you're hurting. Wouldn't you be upset if Mike hid an injury from you?"

"I am the healer. It would be absurd for Michael to _not_ tell me, if he should have an injury."

"Why?" Mads prompted her, cause it was easier than trying to point out to her directly that she was keeping a double standard.

"Because it is my duty to care for him, and the other members of the Pine Guard."

When that didn't seem to dawn on her, Mads explained: "It's his duty to care for you too."

Leta seemed to be chewing on that one, so Mads took a minute to lean her head against her palms, elbows on the stiff plastic arms of the chair.

"And don't think I'm not gonna start keeping an eye on you better when you're healing us after fights, regardless of whether you choose to keep me apprised." She paused and squinted. "Appraised?"

"Apprised," said Leta.

"If you say so. Listen, the caring about each other, it goes both ways. We're a team."

Leta was very quiet for a very long time. Then, "Caring…" She said. It didn't sound like she was arguing, just like she was turning that over in her head.

"Uh-huh. Listen, Leta, I know I said I'd be your sorta guide here, but my head really _is_ killing me, so maybe we save any big cultural and emotional questions you have apropos of this chat for tomorrow."

"I'll make a list," Leta said.

Mads exhaled. "Yeah. I know you will, Leet."

* * *

(1997)

"Obviously we're all still going to the funeral tomorrow," Mads said, "but we can't exactly say how we know Mike, and for the most part no one knows how close we all were to him. So tomorrow we go as a community mourning a freak accident. Today we're Mike's friends, and some of the only family he's got left in this world, and we all know the truth: that Mike was lost in another battle in the war we're fighting here."

The sylphs, the Pine Guard, and the smattering of others they'd been working with who weren't fully sworn in, all had their eyes on her. The weight of it was terrifying.

"This thing. This _abomination_. Sought him out in particular. Because it knew Mike posed a threat to it. Because they're scared of us. And it caught him unawares, because it couldn't take him head on. Cause Mike was good at what he did. Mike was a fuckin' pro. He was a damn fine teammate – the best backup I could've asked for – and a really, really good dude. Better than a teammate, he was a friend. He was. Family."

Silent, on the edge of the crowd, Leta was standing, dressed in a long black coat. Dressed to leave.

"But he also really, really hated people fussing over him, so he probably wouldn't have wanted us to stand around crying. We _will_ stand around drinking, and eating, and telling stories about the crazy bastard—"

Three different people whooped. It didn't exactly break the tension, but there were a few scattered chuckles.

"—and of course. His patch – the patch that marked him one of us – it burned up, in the fire. So I had to make a new one. Per Pine Guard tradition, it'll start out in my pocket, and I expect you'll all be trying your damned best to get it from me. Whoever has it at the end of the night can be the one to figure out how to sneak it into a closed casket to get it buried with him."

Not that it was their first closed casket funeral they'd done this with, in the Pine Guard. This was a line of work where you generally only left through the intake doors of the Kepler Funeral Home, and often not in the best of shape, and everyone knew it. She'd probably be buried with her patch before she turned 40.

"If you wanna say anything about Mike, you can come on up."

She looked to Leta. They'd discussed, at some point at a Pine Guard send-off ceremony, why people bothered with speeches for the dead. Leta hadn't cared enough about anyone to take note of their death for a very, very long time when she'd joined the Guard, so she hadn't been to a funeral in long enough that it was all strange to her, while Mads was so used to death and funerals she'd stopped really thinking about them, because it was all routine to her.

 _It helps_ , Mads had said, not knowing if it was true, just knowing it was the thing everyone had said at every funeral she'd been to. _It helps to talk about them, 'cause otherwise it builds up to this big taboo and you never let it heal over_.

_Heal?_

_Think of it as – everyone you care about is a part of you. When they die, it hurts you, like being sliced open. And you can't let it fester and rot._

Leta didn't move to take her place at the microphone, so Mads passed the mic off blindly to another Pine Guard member and went to her directly. "Leet," she said softly.

"You said it was like a gangrenous limb," she said. "If I don't talk about the dead."

"Yeah. Yeah, kinda. You gotta get to it before it gets gangrenous." She looked at the stony set of Leta's face. "If you cut it off – if you wall off that grief by convincing yourself you don't care, you're gonna lose all the good parts. The grief will infect everything you loved about Mike, all the good parts. And when you do miss him, 'cause you will. You won't be able to remember the good bits."

"And if it's already gangrenous. If the bad has already seeped through and rendered the good unsalvageable—"

"I know it feels like that, but—"

"— _I am not talking about Michael's death_."

Mads blinked. "Okay. I'll bite. Whatcha talking about?"

"If the infection has seeped in, and risks infecting what is healthy, it doesn't matter how good the limb is, right?"

A chill ran down Mads' spine. "Leta, what are you talking about?"

"Your world is connected to mine. My world is infected. You are fighting that infection, that illness seeping through from my world, but it is already gangrenous, Madeline. And if you keep fighting each new enemy as though you do not already know the source, eventually you will fail. And the infection will spread."

"I know things look bad, but we can't – it's your home. Even if you were exiled, and I know there's bad blood, but. There's people there, good people."

"Save what you can, if you must. But precisely because it was my home, Madeline, I have to tell you. Choose your world. Save your world. Sylvain would have you damn your _entire_ world in atonement for the crimes _some_ humans committed. If they want to seek vengeance on those humans, very well, but it does not make sense to allow an entire planet to suffer the sins of the few. You…" She laughed, and it was not a pleasant sound. " _You_ deserve amnesty."

"Leta. I can't kill an entire planet – I can't kill Sylvain, not even to save Earth."

"Why should two be damned when only one is infected? Why do the people here care so much for Sylvain? Do they think if they grovel at the Interpreter's feet for long enough they will be allowed to return home? Home is gone, and it has been for some time. If Earth is to be punished let the punishment be moving aside and allowing us to make our home here. But as long as Earth is connected to Sylvain, both of us are doomed."

Mads just gaped at her.

"A dying town tethered to a dying world, a bulwark against the infection. _Fitting_ , isn't it. Don't you ever just want to put Kepler out of its misery?"

"No," she said, her head spinning but her mind made up. "I don't. Even if Kepler's dying, it's worth trying to save it. And if it comes down around my ears, if I have to be the last one here, I don't care. It's my home. And if I feel that way – I'm not taking anyone else's home from them, and I'm not giving up on it. One day Sylvain will be healed, and until then, I'm gonna hold the line, and protect my town."

"You are well-intentioned, Madeline, but already well-acquinted with death. How many more people can you stand to lose?"

She let out a hollow sort of laugh. "What about me, exactly, gave you the impression I was the sort to give up just because I was losing? I've lost everything before. And somehow found a way to lose even more since then. I understand why you're worried, and hell, I'm scared too. But like I said. I've lost everything before. And I'm still standing. Why the hell should I give up now?"

Leta shook her head and stared off over Mads' shoulder. "I've told you a hundred times, Madeline. The easiest wounds to heal are the ones you avoid in the first place. It isn't a question of whether you can survive. You are a rock, Madeline Cobb. But the world will rot around you. And you shouldn't have to."

"Lots of things shouldn't happen," said Mads. "Be easier if they didn't. But they do."

"We can at least try to stop them."

"Not if trying means destroying a whole world."

"I am trying to do the thing I am meant to do, the thing I have been trying to do since the beginning. I am trying to save your world."

"It's not your world to save."

Leta reached into the pocket of her long coat and pulled out the Pine Guard patch. Mads knew it was coming, but it still twinged something in her chest to see it. It had spent years on the inside of Leta's jacket, even though she didn't need it to visit Sylvain, even though it was hardly a unifying symbol when it was always hidden, and now the careful seams that had held it there had been cut. She wasn't much of one for metaphors, but it sure felt like one.

"You're right," Leta said. "It's not."

* * *

(1990)

"Hey, Leta, wait up."

At the call, Leta paused. Turned. Mike grinned at her as he jogged up. "Sorry, just wanted to say hey. Heard you're part of the team, now."

"That's correct."

"It's good to have you!"

"Forgive me, Deputy Sanders, but you don't know me. On what basis can you assume it's good that I've joined?"

"You seem cool."

"Cool is one of my areas of proficiency."

He grinned even wider. "I don't doubt that for a second. I hear you're also pretty proficient in kicking ass."

"My purpose on this team is to strike down enemies and heal the wounded, in order to guide you to victory against the affliction which has sprung from the infection in my world."

"And you wondered why I said I was lookin forward to working with you."

"Oh. I see. Your interests align with mine."

"Well yeah. My whole job is to protect Kepler. I'm just glad I can do more than keep an eye out for meth labs in the RV Park and giving parking tickets."

She made a mental note to ask Mads what a meth lab was.

"Listen, I gotta dash, I have a day job and all, even if Sheriff Nealy is pretty cool about me kinda moonlighting, but I'll be seeing you."

_Moonlighting?_

Leta watched him jog back towards the lobby, and then turned back towards her destination: Room 13, according to the room key. There were wooden signs pointing in the appropriate direction, and she followed them to the door which bore a small plaque, which appeared to be a slice cut from a branch or small tree trunk, with a 13 etched into it.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

* * *

(2018)

"If you need anything, just let me know," said Barclay. "And, um – good work tonight. I wouldn't have blamed you for running screaming."

"Oh. Huh. You know, running away didn't really occur to me. So, yeah, no problem?"

He smiled, looking faintly bemused, but nodded. "Well, I guess that's one way of managing it. But thank you, seriously. And here's the keys. If you ever get locked out or lose a set, let me know. There's one that'll work on outside doors, and one for your room."

"Thanks," she said.

Barclay nodded. "Have a good night, Aubrey."

"Thanks. You too." And she shifted Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD, to one arm so she could unlock the door and push it open.

It was... cozy.

The lights were styled like wrought iron lanterns, and the walls were pine wood panels. The whole room smelled faintly of pine, a hint of cedar. In a far corner there was an actual woodburning stove, a stack of firewood, a couch, and a little tube-back TV. She grinned when she saw it had a built-in VCR slot.

Further inspection proved the curtains in the back of room opened out to a small private veranda, just big enough for one chair and standing room, but nice. There was also a private bathroom - both tub and shower head, _awesome_ – and a little table tucked into the wall with bench seating. Not to mention the closet, stocked with a small ironing board and an iron, fuck yes, and the dresser.

But she was mostly concerned with the bed. Aubrey was so tired, she wasn't even especially looking forward to taking a shower. She mostly just wanted to curl up in a ball and pet Dr. Harris Bonkers PhD until she fell asleep.

Her suitcase was on the bed, and the crate she had to have for most hotels on her circuit was set up in the corner, complete with a fresh bowl of water. And on top of the suitcase was a note.

AUBREY, it said, in narrow capital letters that suited Mama somehow, I HAD A FRIEND PICK THIS UP FROM THE RESORT. THE FIRE DAMAGE WASN'T TOO BAD, AND THEY WON'T COME AFTER YOU NONE.

That was a relief. She exhaled quietly and read on:

YOU GET SOME REST. YOU'VE MORE THAN EARNED IT. IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, YOU JUST TELL ME OR BARCLAY. THERE'S SPARE SHEETS IN THE CLOSET, TOWELS UNDER THE SINK. WE SERVE ALL THREE MEALS EVERY DAY.

There was a bit of hesitation in the shape of the next few words, and it made Aubrey smile a little even as her hands shook.

THIS ROOM IS YOURS, LONG AS YOU WANT IT. And signed, MAMA.

She set Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD, on the ground and kicked off her shoes, dug through her suitcase for some pajamas, watched him sniff across the room and find the small bowl of hay. He poked his head in then dug around and came up with a blueberry, and Aubrey found herself reevaluating her estimation of Jake Coolice. If he was spoiling her rabbit within healthy boundaries, he had to be pretty all right.

She didn't let herself think the word, but she could feel something strange settle in her chest. Something that felt like home.

Next to the front door she found a row of hooks for the key fobs. She hung them up and touched the smoothed-down wood, the faint etched numbers. Lucky number 13.

**Author's Note:**

> So! There's a lot going on here! And I promise, there will be extensive Director's Cut notes as soon as I can get em written up, as well as some other resources I'm gonna start posting - stuff like how I've built the pre-canon Pine Guard characters using the MOTW builds, compilations of addresses from my map of Kepler, a few headcanons probably, maybe some progress pics on the map, and a link to my Pinterest board and maybe some playlists. Also, my art, though I don't wanna hype it up too much cos I'm no artist.
> 
> In the meantime: I'd like to expand the old Pine Guard, so drop me a line if you wanna throw a name in the mix. Getting tired of picking names from a hat. ALSO, like I said in the initial note, I did base Leta off of some folklore, so if you guess what that is, 1000 party points to you!
> 
> @keplersheetz


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